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John Bukowski

Professor of Mathematics

"I knew intuitively from my first semester that I
wanted to be a professor," he says smiling. "I said to
myself, 'This is where I want to be forever.'"

There are those who might say that this classroom
epiphany was somewhat pre-ordained. He had always
been the kid at school who was ahead of the class at math.
He also loved to help other kids figure out the math that
came so easily to him. He never held a grueling summer
job flipping burgers, waiting tables or working retail. "I
have never had a job outside of academics," he says. "I had
summer jobs tutoring math. My grueling summer job was
explaining algebra to eighth-graders."

Although he knew early he was destined for the
classroom, the path to the blackboard was hardly a
straightforward solution. Besides, Bukowski was never
the clicheALd disheveled math guy in the corner writing
incomprehensible equations on a weathered chalkboard.
Not that he couldn't do that if he wanted to, it's just that
he has other interests.

The piano, for example. The cello. The organ. Family.
Christiaan Huygens. OK, that one's a little obscure
(Huygens was a 17th-century Dutch mathematician
renowned for explaining light waves) but it just means he
loves math history. Such eclecticism really comes from his
own multifaceted childhood.

Growing up in the Pittsburgh suburb of Bethel Park,
the son of an engineer and a mechanical draftswoman,
Bukowski sort of knew he had a facility for math. In
fact he believes some students have a gift for math and
that he was one of them. "It's like that even among
mathematicians," he explains. "There are good and great
mathematicians and then there are those brilliant people
who instantly understand complex problems."

One aspect of life that Bukowski instantly understood
was that math was not his entire life. In fact, he found
out pretty early that music would play a major chord
in his character. "We had a piano in the basement and
I would mess around on it, but my parents recognized
there was something there," he recalls. As for the cello, that's a different melody. "I picked the cello because I was
the smallest kid all through school and the cello was the
biggest instrument."

There's also the mathematics of music--the rhythms
are mathematical--with half notes, quarter notes. "There
is a relationship there," he says. "There are six of us in
the (math) department and three play the piano." He
also recognizes the romance of music, since he met his
wife, math professor Cathy Stenson, when she sang in
the Brown University Catholic Choir and he was the
group's pianist.

In fact, although he never really entertained
thoughts of playing professionally, Bukowski chose his
undergraduate college, Carnegie Mellon University, in
large part because they had a music program and he
could devote time to both interests.

"If I worked in math, I could be involved in music,
but if you work in music, you can't be involved with math.
It's too time-consuming," he says.

When he headed off to graduate school at Brown
University, his interest in music and perhaps more
importantly, his interest in remaining in a college
classroom, followed, although in retrospect, he didn't
make it easy for himself. "I was in the applied math
program, which means you work on math with real-world
applications, and there were not a lot of opportunities
to get in a classroom. I started to ask to teach classes,"
Bukowski says.

Over time, the mathematician added up that he was
much more satisfied in front of a blackboard than working
on business applications. He also knew that the best
place for him would be a small college where teaching
was highly valued. One problem. He'd never attended a
small college. "As a chair when we are hiring people, one
of the things I look for is small college experience and
I didn't have any," he says with a laugh. After applying
to 93 small colleges (mathematicians tend to remember
such statistics), he came to interview at Juniata. "I had
to work hard to convince them I could teach at a place
like Juniata."

Evidently, whatever he said worked, because he taught
his first class in 1997 and hasn't stopped since. His first
two years were tough, because Cathy was finishing her
doctoral studies at Cornell and both spent a lot of time
driving between New York and Pennsylvania. Ultimately,
the couple and the College solved the "two body problem"
(this is a math joke) of having a couple on a small faculty
with the same area of expertise by having the two share estimates his time as "about five-sixths." The couple has
two sons, Daniel, 10, and David, 7.

Aside from ruminating on lesson plans, departmental
problems and math problems, Bukowski also remains
involved on campus by spending time as the College
organist (he plays opening and spring convocations,
Commencement and Baccalaureate), a gig he finds
satisfying and entertaining. "At Commencement, I don't
have to sit in the crowded faculty section, but I have to pay
attention because I'm now sitting up front," he says.

This year, he's branching out into performing. He's
giving a recital at Rosenberger Auditorium March 28
and traveling to Brazil to perform as well, a connection
he made when accompanying the Juniata Concert Choir
when Brazilian choral director Cicero Alves taught at the
College for a semester. His playlist is eclectic and includes
pieces by Scott Joplin and Brazilian tango composer
Ernesto Nazareth. "I've always thought it was important
for students to see faculty outside the classroom and
involved in campus activities," he says. "And having a
'world tour' will be fun. I don't think I will be doing any
tour T-shirts though."